


Port in a Storm

by MakeTheYuletideGay



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheYuletideGay/pseuds/MakeTheYuletideGay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Jon wakes up in the middle of the night, he finds Stephen wrapped around him, spooned up behind him like he’s protecting Jon from the evils of the world. Turning his head slightly to look at Stephen, Jon feels his stomach do that vertigo-inducing flip-flop."</p><p>Stephen comes home late. Jon welcomes him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Port in a Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warriorpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorpoet/gifts).



When Jon wakes up in the middle of the night, he finds Stephen wrapped around him, spooned up behind him like he’s protecting Jon from the evils of the world. Turning his head slightly to look at Stephen, Jon feels his stomach do that vertigo-inducing flip-flop.

 

Jon starts slightly when he notices that Stephen is awake, watching him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

 

“It’s all right,” Stephen says, sounding a little drowsy. “I have the weekend off, remember? It’s not like I need to sleep…” he trails off, a playful leer on his face as his fingertips trail down Jon’s belly.

 

“I don’t want to mess up your sleeping pattern in the middle of such a demanding shooting schedule…” Jon trails off as Stephen’s talented fingers reach their goal. Jon is a little ashamed of the amount of effort it takes him to move his own hand in order to still Stephen’s. “It’s important you get your rest, Stephen. I don’t want you to be tired when you’re filming…”

 

Stephen laughs softly as he pulls Jon in closer to his own body, slipping his thigh between Jon’s legs and trailing the fingers of his free hand down Jon’s side. “How about you help me work out, then, hmm?” he breathes into Jon’s ear. “There’s no better workout, you know…”

 

Jon turns back to look at him again, pupils blown open with desire. “So I’ve been told,” he says guardedly.

 

“Have you been talking to strange men again, Jonathan?” Stephen teases, kissing Jon’s neck as he frees his hand from Jon’s grasp and wraps his fingers around Jon’s growing arousal.

 

Jon lets out a breathy little moan that vaguely resembles Stephen’s name as his hips buck involuntarily. Stephen smirks. This is a good sign.

 

“None stranger than you,” Jon finally manages to grind out. Stephen’s big, warm hand is wrapped around him, and he can feel Stephen’s big, warm cock pressing into his back, and all his carefully-laid plans to make Stephen have a good night’s sleep are falling apart. “Uh…Stephen- __…”

 

Stephen laughs softly, dragging his tongue down the side of Jon’s neck in a way that he knows makes Jon crazy.

 

Jon's brain has fogged over. “Stephen…” he breathes, uncertain as to what it is he actually wants to say. “Stephen…”

 

“Yes?” Stephen asks innocently as Jon grabs onto Stephen’s hip, unconsciously trying to gain more leverage. He sucks on Jon’s earlobe and nearly gets his nose broken as Jon jerks violently upwards.

 

Jon doesn’t even notice. There’s fire all through his body, and every last drop of his blood seems to be concentrated solely in his cock. Stephen’s hardly touched him and he’s hard as a rock. “Oh, _Stephen_ …” Jon’s voice breaks as Stephen’s hand quickens.

 

Stephen chuckles. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes, licking the sweat off Jon’s shoulder blade. Stephen rubs the pad of his thumb over the head of Jon’s cock, making him slick, smirking to himself while Jon moans brokenly.

 

“Stephen…Stephen… _Stephen_ …” Jon writhes helplessly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

All Jon can do in response is moan.

 

He can feel Stephen smirking against his skin. “One moment,” he says, getting up.

 

Jon can’t help but sign at the loss. He sits up, perched on the edge of the bed.

 

“Come here,” he whines.

 

“Let me get my jeans off,” Stephen smirks.

 

“I’ll get them off for you. Now get over here,”

 

Stephen smiles and saunters over to the bed, standing between Jon’s spread legs. Looking down, Stephen smirks when he notices the tent in Jon’s boxers. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

 

Jon rolls his eyes. “That has got to be the lamest pick-up line I’ve ever heard from you,”

 

“That isn’t true!” Stephen protests as Jon swiftly unbuttoned Stephen’s fly, shoving his jeans and underwear down in one movement, leaving them pooled around his feet. “I’ve used the ‘that’s a nice shirt, it’d look good on my floor’ line bef…” he drifts off as Jon bends down and kisses the tip of his exposed erection, rolling his tongue around it. Waves of heat wash over him, and he hisses Jon’s name through clenched teeth.

 

Jon pulls back, smirking as Stephen’s hips unconsciously follow him. Kissing the weeping tip over and over, flicking at it with his tongue, Jon’s smirk only grows when he feels Stephen’s fingers tangle in his hair.

 

“Jon…you keep that up and I’ll come,” Stephen warned, his voice sounding delightfully uncontrolled.

 

Jon begrudgingly stopped. “Party pooper,” he whined as he backed up on the bed, towards the headboard.

 

Stephen smiled, face flushed as he walked over to the bedside table, rummaging around in the drawer until he found what he was looking for.

 

Jon moaned as Stephen fussed with the condom packet. “Hurry up…” he whined, rolling onto his belly and rubbing himself into the sheets. Jon smirked as he saw Stephen’s erection jump at the sight. “Stephen…” he pleaded.

 

“Coming, Jon, hold on,” Stephen soothed as he climbed back onto the bed.

 

“How do you want me?” Jon whispered, not caring how. On his back, on his stomach, on his side…

 

“However you want to be.” Stephen whispered.

 

“I want to see you…” Jon said, rolling onto his back.

 

“Sitting up or lying down?” Stephen asked gently.

 

“Sitting up,” Jon decided. He liked it that way, sitting on Stephen’s thighs, face-to-face.

 

“Control freak,” Stephen teased, gently pulled Jon’s underwear off, throwing them on the floor. He licked Jon’s arousal from root to tip, kissing the head, and Jon arched off the bed, moaning Stephen’s name.

 

“Shhh,” Stephen soothed, hands shaking as he fiddling with the KY tube. “Roll on your side,” he whispered as he finally wrestled the lid off.

 

Jon shivered as he complied, rolling on his side away from Stephen. A moment later he felt Stephen’s slick fingers trailing down his spine, teasing him. “Stephen…” he moaned, impatient.

 

Stephen laughed softly, softly pressing his lips to Jon’s neck. “Shh, shh,” he soothed as his fingers reached their target, softly rubbing.

 

Normally Jon would have loved the gentleness of it all, but tonight he pushed backwards, impaling himself on Stephen’s fingers.

 

“What do _you_ need, Jon?” Stephen asks quietly. “What do _you_ want?”

 

And Jon could see it: himself and Stephen, young together, the shadows of the branches outside his college dorm room window falling across the bed as he and Stephen made love. Jon didn't know who was really with him in that memory. Time, there was never enough time, and why did he want more anyway?

 

Jon turns to face Stephen. “Everything,” he admits. “Everything you’re willing and able to give me.”

 

Stephen smiles softly.

 

“You got it.”


End file.
